The Beardless Dwarf II: Return of the Clean-Shaven
by seekingtomorrow
Summary: Nill returns as the annoying-dwarf-who-doesn't-have-a-beard-because-she's-special in order to help Thorin reclaim Erebor. Too bad none of the dwarves want her there. Even Lord Elrond is at his wit's end. (What would actually happen if a Mary Sue dwarf joined Thorin and Co.)


**The Beardless Dwarf II – Return of the Clean-Shaven**

**SUMMARY: **Nill returns as the annoying-dwarf-who-doesn't-have-a-beard-because-she's-special in order to help Thorin reclaim Erebor. Too bad none of the dwarves want her there. Even Lord Elrond is at his wit's end. (What would actually happen if a Mary Sue dwarf joined Thorin and Co.)

**AUTHOR'S NOTE/SMALL RANT (please read, if possible):** Before I can show you the rest of this fic, I just want to let you lovely readers know my reasoning behind the whole "Beardless Dwarf" thing. Firstly, I do not consider every beardless female dwarf to be an automatic Mary Sue. A Mary Sue is characterized by her interactions. When creating original characters in the Hobbit fandom, you have to ask yourself, are the canon characters (Thorin, Fili, Kili, Bilbo, etc) reacting the way they would if JRR Tolkien had written this? Or am I beautifying their personalities for the sake of my character? Physical beauty and all that doesn't really matter in the scheme of things.

Another thing I want to point out is the standard of beauty in the Dwarfs' society. If you want to make your dwarf beardless, that's fine, but think about the repercussions. Dwarves find beards and physical strength attractive. I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life, but try to avoid implementing your own standards of beauty onto another culture, hoping for the same effect. For example, what was once considered attracted in Ancient China probably isn't going to be what's considered attractive now.

**tl;dr: There is nothing wrong with making your OC beautiful by your standards, but just remember that not all societies hold up to those same principles**.

Thank you to everyone who read this and sorry if I came off as pretentious.

Anyways, on with the show. This sequel takes place right after the dwarves have arrived at Rivendell. If you haven't read **The Beardless Dwarf**, I suggest you do so.**  
**

Hope you all enjoy this and reviews are greatly appreciated!

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"Oh Elrond, I am eternally grateful for your kind hospitality!"

Lord Elrond gave a rather strained smile. Because his ideals of beauty differed from that of the dwarves—that being said, one should not project their own ideals of beauty onto another society and expect the same reaction—he had no problem making eye contact with Nill. Her personality, on the other hand, was a disaster.

"Yes," Thorin said. "_Lord _Elrond is very kind." He smiled to the surprise of Gandalf and the other dwarves. They regarded him with curious stares.

Balin caught on. "Yes, Lord Elrond is. In fact, he is so kind, I am sure he would not mind extending his hospitality a little longer."

"I am positive he would love to keep you as a guest!" Fili chimed in.

"You could stay here _forever_," Kili said. His eyes were wide and innocent in the hopes that Nill would fall for his guiles and be convinced to stay with the elves. Kili was never known for having the best, nor most logical plans.

"I couldn't do that!" Nill gasped aloud, putting a hand over her heart. "I belong with Thorin!"

Thorin let out a whimper shockingly similar to Kili's, but quickly covered it up with a much more majestic-sounding cough.

"My dear," Balin said, careful to keep his eyes averted from Nill's disgustingly beardless visage. "You would be of more help to the elves. They require someone with intelligence. Us dwarves on the other hand, need warriors."

To everyone's collective dismay, Nill's expression only brightened. "I can be a warrior!"

Lord Elrond massaged his temples. "Nill, we've already discussed this. The sword is yours as long as you do not use it in combat. You could hang it as a wall decoration or something of the sort."

"I am very sorry Elrond—"

"_Lord _Elrond."

"But I cannot abandon my people now! They would never forgive me!"

"We'd forgive you," the dwarves chanted in unison.

"Would you do us a kindness and lower the timbre of your voice?" Lord Elrond asked. "The elves, myself included, have rather…_sensitive _hearing."

Nill shook her head sadly, paying no mind to Lord Elrond's request. "My mysterious past may haunt me at every turn but I will put that aside for now in order to fight for my people."

"They're not your people," Fili said, deadpan.

"And your past is not so mysterious," Thorin added. "And wouldn't you think I have a more distressing past than you?"

"Thorin," Nill stood in front of him and grasped his hands. "It is not a competition of who has the most depressing childhood. If it was, I would win on account of how mysterious mine was."

Thorin shook his hand out of Nill's grip and turned away, grumbling threats.

"I suppose I should show you my sword," Nill said. She reached for the purple leather-covered hilt of a sheathed sword that had suddenly manifested at her side and pulled out a beautiful dirk. Its blade was almost iridescent, shining with a million colours. A diamond—for no apparent reason—was set in the pommel of the blade, winking cheerily.

"What an excessive sword," Gloin muttered to Oin. He nodded in agreement.

"You think that's excessive?" Lord Elrond whispered, appearing right behind the brothers who started in surprise. "Wait until she uses it."

"The Flaming Sword of Justice!" Nill cried. The sword shone even brighter, but contrary to its name, no flame appeared.

"Where's the flame?" A curious Ori asked.

Nill brought the sword down on a conveniently placed boulder.

"_Fabulous…!" _A chorus of what sounded like male angels sang in an awfully high tenor voice. The dwarves frantically looked around, but could not find the source of the choir.

"What was _that_?" Kili asked.

"That, my dear Kili, was the sound of the Flaming Sword of Justice."

"Is Flaming—?" Gandalf turned to Lord Elrond.

"Yes," a tired Lord Elrond replied. "It does mean 'flaming' in that context."

"I have never once felt pity toward an elf," Dwalin said, "but there is always a first for everything."

"Fear not," Lord Elrond said. "She is not the first annoyance we've had to deal with."

"Not the first?" Bofur asked. "How is that possible?"

"A while ago—perhaps three or so years?—a human girl appeared in our midst. She insisted that she had simply 'fallen into Middle Earth' and she had no idea as to how. "

"How could one have simply fallen into Middle Earth?"

"I know not the answer to this. But she was frighteningly rude, ignorant about our customs and vehemently refused to act in a civil manner despite the fact that we took her in out of our good will."

"How awful!" Bofur said, aghast. He could not imagine how anyone could stand being so ill-tempered to ones who had offered them so much.

"She even had this odd device that played music. She called it an 'eye-pod' and when the other elves wanted to investigate it because they believed that it may have had sinister origins, she struck them."

"A rude guest!" Oin bellowed, craning his ear trumpet. "Go on, Lord Elrond."

"Toward the end, she had this fixation with poor Legolas. I don't believe he's ever looked at a female the same way again."

"What happened to this girl?" Ori asked, shaking in his boots.

"She…disappeared," said Lord Elrond.

"That's a relief." Ori grinned and mock wiped invisible sweat from his brow.

"You wouldn't have happened to come across any odd human girls, have you?" Lord Elrond asked, a crease of worry furrowing its way between his brows.

"None that I know of," Dwalin answered contemplatively.

"Good."

The dinner provided by the elves later that night was nutritional and eco-friendly, or in other words, it was wimpy rabbit food that only pansies ate, as articulated so clearly by Dwalin. Because she feared that the elves would feel insulted by the dwarves' refusal to consume the leafy greens, Nill defended their hosts with a loyalty that Gandalf would be proud of if he'd cared.

Toward the end of the meal, Nill noticed Balin and Thorin slipping away. Silently getting up from her seat, she followed them.

"Shouldn't we tell Uncle Thorin that Nill is following him again?" Kili asked his brother.

"No," Fili replied, shaking his head. "Then Uncle Thorin's going to send her back here with us."

"Good point."

Gandalf knew that Nill was following them, but could not bring himself to confront her. First off, there was no possible way to dissuade her from listening in as she possessed a certain nosiness about her. Secondly, he thought it best for Thorin's current state of mind that he be kept in the dark for now.

Later, as Lord Elrond began to decipher the arcane map, Nill finally made her presence known.

"I can be of servitude!" She exclaimed, already decked out in battle gear complete with dozens of poorly concealed daggers.

Balin pointed at the aforementioned weapons with a shaky hand. "That is the least practical use of cutlery I have ever seen," he said weakly. "You're going to get yourself killed the moment you sit down."

Thorin elbowed him in the gut, trying to shut him up.

"I can help!" Nill continued. "I know ancient Dwarvish!"

Lord Elrond raised a razor sharp eyebrow. "Do you now. And you never thought to mention it beforehand?"

"I did not want my fellow dwarves to only value me for my intelligence! I wanted them to desire my company as a warrior!"

Thorin began shaking with concealed rage. Balin and Gandalf had to physically restrain him.

"Of course," said Lord Elrond with an increasingly strained smile. "Then I should let you read the runes, I presume?"

"It would be my honour, Elrond!"

"_Lord _Elrond_._"

"With our level of camaraderie, I believe titles to be unnecessary and rather cumbersome, Elrond."

At this point, Gandalf nearly had to restrain Lord Elrond. "Go on then," Gandalf wheezed. "Read the runes."

Nill strode toward the table. Picking up the map, she read in a clear voice,

_"One among you without any facial hair is the key to defeat the dragon in its lair_."

An astonished Balin let go of Thorin who slumped to the ground in a rather unkingly manner. "Is that really what it says?" He asked wearily.

"Of course not," Lord Elrond said. "She's making it up."

"No I'm not!" Nill insisted. "How could I fabricate such an important prophecy?"

Lord Elrond sighed and not-so-gently nudged Nill from the table. Peering at the map, he began to read its actual contents. _"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole." _

"You must be reading a different language," Nill mused. "I'm sure it said something different."

The normally composed Lord Elrond, who had never cried in his entire life, could feel the prickling of tears behind his eyes. "Gandalf, I leave these dwarves' quest to you."

"Lord Elrond?" Gandalf asked.

"I know of your true intentions," Elrond said, grasping the sides of the table. "It is dangerous, yes, but I cannot muster the strength to oppose you."

"You must tell no one."

"I will not. Although Galadriel is requesting your company right now."

"Galadriel?" Nill perked up. "I have not seen her yet. I would love to meet with her."

Lord Elrond pressed a long finger to his temple and whispered to Gandalf, "She will let you go without much objection so long as you bring the beardless one with you."

As Gandalf met with Galadriel, the dwarves took the opportunity to sneak away. To their dismay, Nill had chosen to accompany them rather than stay with the elves in Rivendell.

They traversed rough terrain, rocky mountain ledges, furiously gushing streams and various other obstacles, but the most dangerous hindrance was the one that had followed them from Rivendell. Nill refused to speak at an appropriate volume, she took to practicing with her bothersome sword every night (which was incidentally the one thing preventing Thorin from getting a good night's sleep) and had, to his absolute horror, taken a shine to Bilbo. While Thorin was pleased with the lack of flirtation, poor Bilbo was overwhelmed and was seriously contemplating throwing Nill off the nearest cliff. He was sure the dwarves wouldn't mind too much.

One night, they had come across a nasty storm and were forced to take shelter in a cave. At this point in time, Bilbo felt that he wasn't contributing much to the group and decided to return to Rivendell, and later on, the Shire. As he was leaving, a kind-hearted Bofur attempted to persuade him to stay. However, before Bofur could fully convince Bilbo of his usefulness as a Nill-distractor, the floors of the cave gave way and its occupants fell into the darkness.

It was the lair of the Great Goblin. A dark chasm hollowed in the heart of a mountain with creaking ledges, it reeked of unwashed bodies and raw meat left out in the sun on the hottest day of the year. The slimy bones of previous prisoners seemed to leer at the dwarves, empty eyes and gaping jaws with jagged teeth. The dim light emanating from the hastily constructed torches cast the goblins in an even more sinister light.

The dwarves shuffled down bridges of rotting wood and bone, pushed and pulled by their goblin captors. In the midst of all the confusion, Bilbo managed to slip away.

The Great Goblin then had the dwarves gathered before him, stripped of their weapons. Recognizing Thorin, the Great Goblin began to alert Azog via a tiny goblin that somehow ziplined out of the cave, cackling maniacally.

It was at this point that Nill spoke up, eyes blazing with fury. "Your Majesty," she addressed the Great Goblin mockingly. "I don't think you understand the force of nature that you have chosen to anger!"

The Great Goblin looked a little confused. "I know who Thorin is."

"I was talking about myself!"

"You?" The Great Goblin asked incredulously. "You're not even intimidating in the least. In fact, you look like the thing I picked out of my teeth the other day."

"I'm not intimidating at all," Nill agreed. She placed a hand to her chin and all the dwarves groaned in unison. "It's because I have no beard, isn't it!"

"What?"

"I was born a lonely child to Rorin the Ironfoot and his consort Myryan! I had no friends! Nobody wanted to associate with the dwarf who had no beard! My appearance was too reminiscent of humans or even elves and that beauty only drove my companions away from me!"

"You shouldn't have said anything," said Thorin to the Great Goblin.

"Does she ever _stop_?" The Great Goblin asked, horrified. He had never encountered such a formidable warrior. To be able to render enemies motionless with just words was a true talent.

"She might," said Kili.

"But only if you let us go." Fili said.

"—and on the eve of my sixtieth nameday, I did not receive a single present from anyone other than my relatives! A true tragedy!"

"You know," the Great Goblin said to Thorin in a low voice. "I almost feel inclined to let you go. I mean, sure, death by beheading isn't fun and all, but this," he pointed at a still-speaking Nill, "_this is pure torture_ and more than anything Azog can devise."

"I'd almost rather the beheading."

"—and that is why you shall not behead my beloved Prince in front of me, for I shall stop you!" Nill pulled the Flaming Sword of Justice from its concealed sheath that had somehow been attached to leg, despite that being completely impractical because the sword was nearly the same length as said leg and why does everyone have an obsession with attaching swords to legs? "The Flaming Sword of Justice!"

"_Fabulous!" _The sword trilled, sparkling merrily. Once again, nobody could see where the voice had originated.

Fili gulped nervously. He could've sworn that sword just winked at him.

Gloin put his head into his hands, mumbling something about "damn elves and their stupid twinkly weapons."

The Great Goblin grimaced and turned to Thorin. "I'll let you guys get away for now, but you have to make it look like you're trying to escape."

"Deal."

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Thanks for reading!


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